


Anything of the Loving Kind

by mautadite



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clothing, F/F, Sexual Content, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: Ann loves her girlfriend naked, and adores her clothed, but there’s something especially thrilling about seeing her move from one state to the next.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 162
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Anything of the Loving Kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moebius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moebius/gifts).



> Title from ‘The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister’. Many thanks to [V.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/festeringfae) for her incredibly wise words: “Bro....forget lister....She’d Go By Jack.”
> 
> Happy Yuletide! <3

As always, when the heat rushes to her face and her belly rises and falls rapidly with her breathing and she spreads her legs wantonly and her orgasm is centimetres, a breath, a mere _murmur_ away, Ann tries to cover her face. With her hands, a pillow, the sheets; anything that’s nearby and can serve as a shield for the landslide of tumultuous feeling and desire that’s about to come crashing down on her.

Jack never lets her, though. From her position between Ann’s legs, never lifting her face from where she’s licking and sucking with determined ardour, she grasps each of Ann’s wrists and pins them to the bed. A shift; she peers up at Ann briefly with the sweetest, wickedest look in her eyes, and then continues to eat her out. Ann feels like a butterfly: trapped, pinned, posed, exposed. The curtains are thrown aside, morning paints the room gold, the covers are falling off the bed, and she’s naked. Both without clothes and nude in the way she always is with Jack; stripped to her bones, a being of nerves and electricity, and dear god, her _tongue_ , lapping at her, flicking at her…

Ann comes, gasping and crying out, hips arched clear off the bed, her mind flooded with light that’s brighter than diamonds.

A minute later, Jack has crawled up to her mouth and is plucking kisses from it like fruit off a tree. Ann responds weakly, but with feeling; her limbs are still filled with that helium-like lightness.

“Just give me a few minutes,” she mumbles, rubbing their noses together, “and I shall reciprocate most thoroughly.”

Jack groans, and her kisses lose their featherlike quality. She gives Ann a hard, bruising one before pulling away.

“You know I’d like nothing, and I do mean _nothing_ , more than that darling, but…” She flings out a hand to the dresser for her phone or her pocket watch. Her palm grabs the timepiece first, and what she sees when she flips it open makes her groan again, heartily. “Good lord. But I should have left for the bank ages ago. Rain check?”

She kisses her again, vaults off the bed, and sweeps her nightshirt off over her head in a fluid movement. Unabashed in her nakedness, Jack strides into the adjoining bathroom.

Ann sits up, back to the headboard.

“Will you be late for your meeting?” she calls out anxiously.

“Oh, terribly late!” is the cheerful response. “But they were the ones who practically begged for my patronage. If wait they must, then wait they shall.”

Guilt still gnaws at her, trying to muscle out the endorphins currently making merry in her veins. 

“I’m sorry for making you—”

“Making me nothing,” Jack interrupts, sticking her head out of the bathroom. Her toothbrush hangs out of her mouth at a jaunty angle, moving up and down like a fisherman’s pipe as she talks. The image is enough to make Ann stifle a giggle. “I knew damned well that I should have gotten up with my alarm. Only I found myself in the bed of a beautiful woman, and things rather fell apart from there.”

Ann flushes happily, and Jack disappears with a wink. A few seconds later, the roar of the shower thunders through the open door.

She scoots up so that she’s sitting more comfortably, and reaches across to the nightstand for her phone. There are a few messages from Elizabeth and Auntie Ann, some notifications from relatives on Facebook that she can’t bring herself to mute, one of the usual update emails from her lawyer, a notification from one of the cute puzzle games she plays, and her daily reminder to take her meds. Ann replies to a few messages, skims through the email from her lawyer before resolving to read it when she’s more awake, and sets the meds reminder to snooze so that it’ll go off again while she’s eating breakfast.

Jack strides back in, towelling off. Her lean body is always attractive to Ann, with all her angles and long limbs, but particularly when it’s in quick motion like this. Ann sits up straighter, watching her and forgetting to be shy. She loves her girlfriend naked, and adores her clothed, but there's something especially thrilling about seeing her move from one state to the next. 

First, Jack stalks over to her overnight bag. She pulls on a pair of boy-cut knickers, solid black and sensible, her movements all mannish and staccato. Then a sports bra; she pulls it over her head and down, where it cups her breasts while flattening them a bit at the same time. A white vest soon covers it, creased lines of crucifixion marking it where it had been folded. Then Jack sits on the bed to apply deodorant, spread lotion on her limbs, and pull on sensible black socks. 

Most nights that she stays over, Jack will make sure that her clothes find their way into the hands of the housekeeper, so they can be laundered, ironed and ready in the morning. She stalks over to the bedroom door in her underwear, opens it just a crack, reaches out a hand and feels along the wall with utmost confidence. She’s rewarded; when she pulls her hand back in, Ann can see that she’s holding a neat dark suit on a hanger, pressed perfectly.

The shirt is a pale robin’s egg blue, a few dreamy shades away from white, and just a tad too bold to be the colour of the sky. Jack slips her arms into the sleeves, tugs the shirt with a snap to make sure it settles comfortably around her shoulders. Her long fingers fly down the centre, doing up the buttons quickly and efficiently. Ann, still watching, opens up the second drawer on the dresser, and finds what she wants fairly quickly; a little box of odds and ends that Jack had left behind at Crow’s Nest at one time or another, for one reason or another. She waits until Jack has pulled on her trousers (dark blue, the blue of midnight; as near to black as Jack could get it without actually being so) and buckled her thick leather belt before beckoning her over.

She has to get onto her knees so they’re of the same height, and only remembers that she’s still naked when Jack’s eyes dip below her collarbone, and the corner of her mouth twitches in pleasure, her eyes darkening and her lids lowering. Ann giggles, smacking her on the arm, and Jack says nothing, only grins and presents her hands, palms forward. Ann attaches and secures the cufflinks on each wrist, little silver barbells.

That done, she holds out her palm.

“Necktie.”

Jack retrieves it from the suit hanger; a dark, silken blue affair with hazy patterns of white. Ann had always been rubbish at this, until she’d determined not to be, and with a little tutelage from Jack, she can now tie a perfectly respectable Oriental. She uses a finger to tip Jack’s neck up so she has proper access. Jack steadies herself with a light hand on either of Ann’s bare hips, a gossamer touch that Ann tries and fails not to notice as she works. Jack’s lips are parted, and Ann can feel her swallow when her knuckles chance to brush her chin, see the rhythmic pulse in her neck. Folding the collar back down, she makes sure it’s smooth and neat before attaching the collar-pin, a match to the cufflinks at her wrists. It gives the necktie an elegant arch.

She pats Jack’s shoulders. 

“All done.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She kisses her on the nose, then stalks back over to the dresser to continue getting ready. Her chin-length hair she brushes into neatness before securing it into a little knot. Some strands fly free almost immediately, trailing against the shaved underside on the left, and Jack sighs at it in the mirror before moving on determinedly. She shrugs into her waistcoat: double breasted with silver buttons, dark blue to match her trousers, and form-fitting in the most dashing way. She owns a few patterned ones that Ann wishes she would wear more often: bright paisleys, dapper plaids, even a few polka-dotted ones. But Jack insists they’re for special occasions. She might have eased up on her edict to ‘always wear black’, but Jack is still very much a creature of dark colours.

Peering into the mirror, she adjusts her tie so that it’s perfectly centred in the space before it disappears into the waistcoat. She comes over to sit on the bed again; this time to step into and tie up shiny black oxfords. At the dresser, she clips on her pocket-watch, slips her phone and her billfold into her trousers, and finds a pair of silver stud earrings in the box of odds and ends. An application of chapstick and a spritz of cologne later, she stands before Ann, hands spread, grinning winsomely. The look will only be complete once she collects her coat, hat and long umbrella downstairs, but Ann’s heart still flutters madly, a bird’s wings against a well-loved cage, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Not bad for ten minutes, right? How do I look?”

Ann beams, getting up onto her knees again.

“Like a perfect gentleman, Miss Lister.”

Jack’s smile goes softer, smokier, and she eats up the distance between them in two long strides. 

“Not _perfect_ , I hope,” she murmurs, and pulls her in for a kiss. Ann’s hands flutter about, not wanting to crease Jack’s suit, but then Jack pulls her in, a hand on her bare bottom, making Ann’s breasts brush against the fine wool waistcoat, the other weaving through Ann’s sleep and love-mussed hair. She rests her palms lightly on Jack’s shoulders and they just kiss and kiss. 

Until Jack pulls away with another deep groan.

“No, I really mustn’t, I’ve got to dash.” But she doesn’t. She holds on to Ann and rubs their noses together briefly. “What do you have on today?”

Ann tries to wade through the cotton in her mind and find details.

“Um… nothing really. Eliza’s coming over for lunch—”

“Oh? Do give her my _very_ warm regards,” Jack interrupts smartly. Ann rolls her eyes and smacks her arm.

“—and then I’ve got a Skype session with Dr. Darling in the early afternoon. What about you?”

“Let’s see… there’s the bank, checking on things at the office, a parcel I told my aunt I’d get for her in London, popping over to Shibden to see Marian and the bore who will evidently be my new brother-in-law, and then my darling, you may have me for the rest of the day.”

“Have you?” Ann wriggles in what she hopes is a saucy way, thinking of her earlier promise of reciprocity. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

“Anything.”

Jack is smiling, but the word and her look are serious. They kiss one more time, and then Jack pulls away, holding onto Ann’s hand until the very last moment, before dropping a kiss onto the inside of her wrist. She does a three-sixty turn about the room, making sure she has everything she needs. Ann feels her shoulders sink with a sigh, and she smiles in what must be an idiotic way. A hand creeps up to her chest. She knows she must look like just the silliest thing, but she can’t help it. This is the way Jack has always made her feel.

At the door, Jack turns back, tips the hat that she isn’t yet wearing. 

“Miss Walker.”

“Miss Lister,” Ann replies, and sees the softness around Jack’s lips and eyes, and there’s a great peace in knowing that she’s being looked back at in the same sort of silly way. Jack winks, waves, and disappears behind the click of the door.


End file.
